I’ve had a realization lately that sometimes I’m drawn to people who seem a little MEH about me, and I’m really questioning THAT right now. I’m really noticing how much I enjoy getting stuck in the quicksand of other people’s indifference. And because lately I’ve been singing in the kitchen and dancing and noticing the bright, shiny impulses of my big fucking brain more than usual, I’m struck by how weird it is that I’ve chosen to chase people who are lukewarm about me, and I’ve also — often — chosen not to take big risks or break out of my comfort zone. I’ve chosen to live in a cave for much of my life.

I lived in a cave because at some point I decided it was wrong to be BIG and loud and arrogant and alive. I lived in a cave because I took my cues from the people who were ambivalent about me instead of taking my cues from the people who loved me like crazy. I lived in a cave because I handed out scoring sheets and asked everyone to score me and then I paid special attention to the NOT VERY SATISFIED CUSTOMERS and ignored the people who said, “We love the fuck out of you, five stars, keep up the good work!”

This is what I see in you, Too Many Questions. You have chosen the life of the cave dweller. Stop reading the tea leaves of indifferent male faces and get the fuck on with your life. I know you want love. Love will find you eventually, some time after you stop asking questions and start answering them. Stop asking indifferent strangers about the brilliant sparks emanating from your big head. Indifferent strangers were born to tell you that those sparks are something scary, a house on fire, a burning bush, powers beyond their control, fearsome and loathsome and wrong.

Sometimes I think we women (and many men, too!) were built to ask questions. We shouldn’t hate ourselves for that. But maybe we need to stop it with the around-the-clock polling and feel, within our hearts, what we know is true, and proceed from that truth.

You are the one who decides what you are. You don’t need to poll the population. Instead of imagining that you are fucking things up with the best, most awesome guy in the universe over and over again, imagine that you are merely working your way through a tepid mass of dudes, 200 strong. You are probably on No. 133 right now. Imagine getting the exact same reaction another 66 times! Now that you see these guys as INHERENTLY INDIFFERENT UNTIL PROVEN OTHERWISE, what will you do differently, for your sake instead of for their sake? You will sleep with fewer of these guys, I bet. You will do less gesturing and pointing and running around in circles to impress them. (Not that being animated is bad!) You will stop cutting yourself off mid-sentence. (Although I continue to second-guess myself, and that is fine! Fuck it!) Maybe you’ll just start to say things like, “I’m not feeling this.” Maybe you’ll fucking decide for yourself whether HE is worth it or not, first and foremost.

What kind of reward comes from trying to win over 66 indifferent men, hoping for their stamp of approval? What kind of strength can you draw from that? What if, instead, you cycled through 66 indifferent men with a kind of detached, openhearted indifference of your own? What if you took away their power to judge you, and you relied on your own judgment, your own instincts, your own sense of your power? What if you stopped feeling so seduced by quicksand? What if you simply stepped around it and moved on?

What if you tried asking different sorts of questions, questions about your life in the absence of men: Why isn’t your work more engrossing? Why aren’t your friends giving you their all? Why can’t you feel your feelings unless there’s a guy in the picture? Why can’t you follow your own whims and honor your own values and desires and buy yourself a nice meal even when you’re not on a date with some dude? When will you start giving weight to your own experiences? When will you buy a book and read it in the park and stare at the blue sky and say to yourself, HELL YES I AM ALIVE AND I CONTAIN MULTITUDES AND I AM PERFECT JUST THE WAY I AM, RIGHT NOW, RIGHT HERE, TERRIBLE AND JITTERY AND FUCKING PERFECT?

No more questions, then. No more.

You caught me at the exact right time, because this is where I am today. I’m determined to breathe fire today, and I’m not going to slow down just so some fucking hobbit can show me how to do it “the right way.” I know exactly what I’m doing already. I’ve always known, I just didn’t trust myself before.

Let’s trust ourselves and turn our backs on those who don’t. Let’s breathe fire and magic together. Let’s burn your stupid fucking questionnaires and scorecards to ashes, and then let’s fly through the blustery wind together, brilliant and perfect and terrible. Let’s never live under that mountain again.

It’s the end of August. It’s hot, people are exhausted and irritated. It’s the “Back to School” spirit of September. I am thirty-hmmmmmm years old, and my internal clock is still set to the rhythms of the school year. If only I could buy a scented candle that smells like Trapper Keepers and pencil shavings… I would probably…not buy it. Whatever they made it with couldn’t possibly be good for you. Then again, “Pumpkin Spice” is probably not much better for you. But I digress.

September is similar to New Year’s Eve and Ash Wednesday. The air is full of possibilities. I view it as an opportunity to re-evaluate life. What am I doing right? What am I doing wrong? What am I avoiding? Guilt over my shortcomings inevitably creeps in, reminding me of all that I’m not doing to improve my life, my relationships, my bank account. I can really let this take me into a neurotic death spiral.

This year, and maybe every year going forward, I’m going to read this when I get bummed:

I keep reading about the stress levels rising in the college-bound in our society. There is a new article or study out every day now about how the counseling centers at Universities nationwide are overwhelmed with students with high levels of anxiety and severe and sometimes crippling symptoms of depression. About how our young adults are not prepared to cope with the stressors of the life they have to face.

I keep shouting into the hurricane force winds of College SAT Prep workshop flyers zipping past me , but most days I can’t even hear myself.

Why am I not ensuring that my own teenage daughter has every possible advantage in being successful in life, knowing what I know? Reading what I’m reading?

Because life is not a mission.

See, you can f*ck up a mission. But you can’t f*ck up an adventure.

Life is an adventure.

Anyone who tries to tell you different is a liar or is trying to sell you something.

Don’t believe me?

If you have to get from Point A to Point B in X amount of time with Y amount of usable resources to start with and Z amount of valuable resources left, otherwise you lose or everybody dies, that’s a mission.

That’s not life.

If you are going to get from Point A (which we know) to Point B (which is yet to be determined) in an unknown amount of time with an unknown amount of usable resources to start with and an unknown amount of valuable resources left, then you die (and so does everybody else): now that’s an adventure!

That’s life.

I’m not saying you go into an adventure without a good head on your shoulders. A few resources go a long way towards having an interesting and comfortable journey. A few qualities like honesty, curiosity, some humility, and a good work ethic come in handy. Asking for and being willing to receive help are also good.

And no one goes out on an adventure without at least some planning. You don’t go backpacking into the mountains without some preparations. But if you try to put something in your pack for every possible opportunity or disaster, pretty soon your pack will be so heavy you can’t carry it.

My main point is that there’s no one right way to have an adventure. You can’t fail to have an adventure…unless you just don’t go have one.

Alcohol, Insomnia, and Banana Tea. Sounds like a dare. Well, the Banana Tea was a dare. From my mom. She heard about it on Dr. Oz and, for Mother’s Day, requested that I be the family Guinea Pig and try it out. But first, an explanation.

I like to drink. I mean, most people do, especially here in New Orleans. I’m no stranger to a nightcap or two before bed. But when I turned 30, I began to notice that the final drink of the night was always the one that would wreck my sleep and erase my ability to wake up at 5 AM for my daily meditation. Turns out, there’s a great explanation for this effect – just ask WebMD!

A new review of 27 studies shows that alcohol does not improve sleep quality. According to the findings, alcohol does allow healthy people to fall asleep quicker and sleep more deeply for a while, but it reduces rapid eye movement (REM) sleep.

And the more you drink before bed, the more pronounced these effects. REM sleep happens about 90 minutes after we fall asleep. It’s the stage of sleep when people dream, and it’s thought to be restorative. Disruptions in REM sleep may cause daytime drowsiness, poor concentration, and rob you of needed ZZZs.

“Alcohol may seem to be helping you to sleep, as it helps induce sleep, but overall it is more disruptive to sleep, particularly in the second half of the night,” says researcher Irshaad Ebrahim. He is the medical director at The London Sleep Centre in the U.K. “Alcohol also suppresses breathing and can precipitate sleep apnea,” or pauses in breathing that happen throughout the night.

The more a person drinks before bed, the stronger the disruption. One to two standard drinks seem to have minimal effects on sleep, Ebrahim says.

“The immediate and short-term impact of alcohol is to reduce the time it takes to fall asleep, and this effect on the first half of sleep may be partly the reason some people with insomnia use alcohol as a sleep aid,” Ebrahim says. “However, this is offset by having more disrupted sleep in the second half of the night.”

Alcohol tricks people into thinking they are getting better sleep, says Scott Krakower, DO. He is an addiction specialist at North Shore-LIJ in Mineola, N.Y. “People who drink alcohol often think their sleep is improved, but it is not.”

REM is the more mentally restorative type of sleep, says Michael Breus, PhD, a sleep specialist in Scottsdale, Ariz. “Alcohol is not an appropriate sleep aid. If you rely on alcohol to fall asleep, recognize that you have a greater likelihood to sleepwalk, sleep talk, and have problems with your memory.”

Instead of booze, try Golden Milk or Banana Tea – which is cheaper to make and easier to throw together. It’s also useful for restless leg due to the magnesium and potassium values of the banana.

Bananas are rich in potassium and magnesium, but what most people do not know is that the banana peel has, even more, potassium and magnesium than the banana itself…Potassium and magnesium are beneficial for the nervous system and are great for relaxing the muscles. In fact, magnesium is the most important mineral for muscle relaxation and can reduce muscle cramps along with other aches and pains.

When you are stressed, guess which mineral is depleted from the body first? You guessed it! Magnesium. You need magnesium to cope with stress, allowing you to relax and fall asleep.

Cinnamon is great because it is one of the best ways to balance blood sugar levels. When blood sugar levels are balanced, your hormones can function in a way that allows for better sleep. If your blood sugar levels are off, then you may have energy at night, or be tired during the day.

David Wolfe taught me how to make it. Basically, cut the ends off a clean organic banana, boil it whole in a small pot of purified or spring water for at least 10 minutes, add cinnamon (or boil with a cinnamon stick) and stevia, then enjoy. I’ve only tried it twice, but I think it helps.